Page 69 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
With my body relaxing slightly around him, my muscles couldn’t contain the shivers anymore. A tremble course through me, so powerful I had to clench my jaw to keep my neck from twitching.
His eyes sparked again. How in Xamor’s name did he do that?
He began moving toward me.
I held my ground, gaze steeling at his approach.
His massive body moved with ease, like a man who knew few things in this world could challenge him, while mine was cold, weak, and so out of its element that I had trouble keeping my fingers still.
The scent of him invaded my senses, that strange mix of leathers, embers, and too crisp mornings.
And all I could do was stare at him, eyes locked, wondering what he was doing.
I distantly wondered if I had the same impact on people back in Aquila whenever I walked toward them in all my might.
But I had been forcing confidence.
He embodied it.
The Commander’s hand reached out toward me.
I sucked in a breath, my entire body taut, mind racing with possibilities.
His hand kept going, completely bypassing me, and grabbing the handle. He opened the door, walked around me, and stepped out.
Like I wasn’t even there.
Which shouldn’t have mattered.
But it did.
I whirled around, facing him. “Hey, I was talking to you.”
“And I am convinced you can walk and talk at the same time.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “Or should I carry you to your room?”
“No.” I said primly, my cheeks flushing; it was only the heat in this imposing, stuffy training room after I froze on the roof. Nothing else. “I don’t need–”
The enormous hallway was no longer empty.
Warriors, each bigger and meaner than the next, marched around in their huge brown leather armors, trimmed with grey fur and too many weapons. They wore their daggers on notchessewn onto their chests, axes hung from their belts, and swords criss-crossed their backs.
Some stood guard in front of doors I made note of–those had to be important–but most simply walked like people with purpose, who were expected somewhere.
All of their gazes jumped to me, some more obvious and stern, others with open curiosity.
I held on tighter to my borrowed coat and hurried after the Commander, hating the way I gravitated toward him.
He was the enemy, but an enemy I knew.
All of these big, heavily armed people were all Blood Brotherhood and complete strangers. Blood Brotherhood strangers, who still retained the menacing glower of the Northern Clans they’d severed from years ago. They should have just stayed in that alliance. Maybe now I wouldn’t have been stuck in their cold fortress if they had.
The Commander and I settled into a silent, sharp rhythm, like we were heading to war.
It felt too fast for my bare feet and too slow for his heavy boots. He’d slowed down, for me, and it only made me feel more lousy.
The only bright spot was that, for the first time in my life, I was the shortest person within view.
I’d never had an issue with my height–longer legs meant I moved faster and towering over people who thought they could cower me was a nice benefit–but it was surreal to be surrounded by so many tall people.
